


sometimes the silence guides a mind to move to a place so far away

by thedreamsteam



Series: the dream team fics [10]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedreamsteam/pseuds/thedreamsteam
Summary: Dream wishes he could turn back, wishes he could go back. But his hands are tied and all he can do is cry out as the fiery hands press against his back, cry out as he tries to fall but can’t. The knife against his neck prevents him from moving any further, the threat of a sliced neck stopping him well enough. He can see Wilbur across the small bit of grass, and his face looks pained, and Dream wishes he could tell him he didn’t go back of his own free will, he didn’t go back because he wanted to, it’s because he had to. He had to go back, or else no one would be spared.or, Dream's being forced to go back, but he'll rather die before he joins Sap and George again
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot
Series: the dream team fics [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913893
Comments: 9
Kudos: 371





	sometimes the silence guides a mind to move to a place so far away

**Author's Note:**

> ACCIDENTALLY DLEETED THIS FIC LMAOOO BUT ITS BACK
> 
> uhhh sorry that sap and george are so ooc and evil ive just made them villains and its so fun omg
> 
> title is from sweather weather by the neighbourhood bc bi anthem baby

Dream wishes he could turn back, wishes he could go back. But his hands are tied and all he can do is cry out as the fiery hands press against his back, cry out as he tries to fall but can’t. The knife against his neck prevents him from moving any further, the threat of a sliced neck stopping him well enough. He can see Wilbur across the small bit of grass, and his face looks pained, and Dream wishes he could tell him he didn’t go back of his own free will, he didn’t go back because he wanted to, it’s because he _had_ to. He had to go back, or else no one would be spared.

“That’s for betraying us.” Sap snarls, and his face looks so angry, Dream is worried he’ll hurt him more, worried he’ll hurt him worse than before. “Will you betray us again, after this?”

The pain becomes even worse, but he gasps out a yes, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll betray you, again and again, until you stop forcing me back.” _Until I die_ are the unspoken words, but everyone hears them well enough.

“Liar.” Sap’s hands burn brighter, and he nearly sobs at the pain. The blood is dripping down his hands, a stark contrast against his skin.

“No.” He gets out, the pain nearly becoming unbearable. “No matter how many times you threaten to kill everyone unless I come back, no matter how many times you threaten them, I will always come back and betray you again, and again, every fucking time.”

“What do you mean ‘threaten’?” Wilbur’s voice speaks up, drowning out the arguing. “Dream, why did you go back?”

The knife presses against this throat, slightly harder, and he feels the blood trick down his neck as he swallows, the silence speaking a thousand words. The tears start down his face, then, as the silence envelops the room.

“They sent a message t-telling me that if I didn’t go back, if I didn’t join them, that they would kill the entirety of L’manberg, starting with Tommy and Tubbo and ending with you. They told me I would have to watch them slaughter everyone I care for, and that I wouldn’t even get the pleasure of being dead with everyone. Th-that I would be forced to stay alive, knowing that you all died because of my selfishness. That you all died just because I didn’t want to be with them anymore. That you were all dead, because of me.” The last part comes out in a gasp, the feeling of the hand tightening, of a breaking grip, causes him to nearly cry harder, the tears still streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry.” He calls out, and before anyone knows what’s happening, he’s broken the rope on his wrists, as if they were just paper, turning around and grasping the knife that was held in George’s hand. Sapnap gasps in pain, and soon enough George has as well, the two not even bothering to try and stop the bleeding as they pull out their swords.

“You’re so dead, Dream.” Sap nearly growls out, and Dream smiles, the first one that anyone in the room has seen since he stumbled into L’manberg with broken wrists and a hurt body.

“At least you will be too.” He replies, and it starts.

He ducks and dives, rolling and swiping and killing, picking up George’s sword once it’s dropped, defending himself. It had started with only Sap and George and another member, one who he doesn’t even remember the name of, but more men had joined, ones that were supposed to defend the leaders to their death.

He kills them too.

His mask had been thrown to the side when this all started, when Sap had wrapped the rope around his wrists, and it’s in front of him now, splattered with blood. He wants to pick it up, hide his face from the crowd of people, but what’s the point when they’ve already seen the blood across his face, when they’ve seen more expressions than he cared to admit that he had made, so he resists, instead dropping the sword as he walks over to where George is, alongside Sap, separated from the bodies. They’re both still alive, his wounds on them not enough to kill them.

They don’t need to die, not today. But their day will come soon enough.

“I don’t want to kill you.” He tells him softly, kneeling beside George’s bruised and bloody body. He ignores the eyes that are on him, ignores the whispering going on, and talks quieter. “Please, just leave with Sap. Don’t make me hurt you.”

It’s quiet in the room, as he waits for an answer, as the people of L’manberg wait for a movement, a smile, a handshake, _something_.

“Traitor.” Is the only word George tells him, his eyes turning hard, and Dream doesn’t even get any time to question it before he’s surged up against him, knocking Dream to the ground, and all he feels in his shoulder is pain before George has jumped off of him, running away with Sap near on his trail.

He can feel the wound in his shoulder, and he can feel the blood running down his arm, but he still struggles up, gasping as he stands up, his eyes unfocused as he breathes. Nobody has seen what happened, he can tell. Everyone is still sitting there, staring, but Wilbur is standing up, Tommy at his side.

“Dream?” He says, voice questioning. “Are you okay?”

“I-” He starts, taking a step, but his knee fails and he collapses, body dropping to the ground. His hands hit the floor at an angle and his shoulder slams into the ground, blood seeping out, and he cries out at the feeling, hurting. There’s movement ahead of him, he can feel it, but then someone touches the wound in his shoulder and the blackness that had been quietly pressing in moves over him completely.

Fuck.

-

When Wilbur steps into the med-bay, his first thought is a simple “fuck”. The second thought is that Dream looks so small. 

The man is only a couple inches shorter than himself, always stretching and standing as high as he could go, trying to claim he’s taller than Wilbur. He always let him say so, a small smile on his face. He’ll do that everyday, just to see how happy Dream gets, even though he can never see his face behind his mask.

Dream looks so small now, lying on their medical cot. He’s nearly longer than it, feet nearly hanging off of it, but it’s just a few inches longer, enough for him to stay on. A blanket is wrapped on his body, warming his body in the chilly air, but it doesn't seem to be helping much. His t-shirt is off of his body, the bandages wrapped around his side still, the wound still open, only because Dream keeps forgetting that it’s there and keeps opening the stitches. A band aid is pressed against his neck, and bandages are now wrapped around the shoulder, trying to let it heal. Some are wrapped around his hands as well, and he looks like how he did when they were little kids, after they had gone exploring without telling, falling and hurting themselves in the darkness of the forest. They hadn’t been let away from their village for a little bit, but they were content with that, only needing each other to be happy.

Wilbur walks over to where Dream is asleep, sitting down beside him. They’re the only ones in the room, everyone else either asleep or talking to someone else. The point is, they’re the only ones there, and he quietly grabs Dream’s hand, holding it tightly. He rests his head on the edge of it, and thinks in the silence of the night, in the sounds of Dream’s gentle breathing.

This was just what it was like when they had been 12 and 11, after Dream had fallen out of the tree they had been sitting in, breaking his arm and having multiple bruises and scrapes all over him. They had ran back to the village, and Wilbur had never left his side, no matter what. Dream hasn’t been allowed to leave his bed for the first couple of days, and he had stayed by his side the entire time, entertaining him with stories of what had happened while he slept, but soon it changed into him reading books aloud to the boy, them both laying the bed together, until Dream’s parents would find them asleep in the bed, curled around each other.

This was what it was like when Dream was 13, and he was 14, the two of them stuck in his room together after nearly falling into a mineshaft, Dream nearly breaking his leg this time. Only his ankle, though, leaving both of them stuck in his room until it healed. It was fine, though. Wilbur was the only one that Dream would ever ask for help from, so it worked out.

There’s too many memories just like this, so Wilbur lets his mind still and holds Dream’s hand still, squeezing lightly, smiling softly to himself when the blonde squeezes it back.

This reminds him so much of when they were 15 and 16, when Dream was on his bed and Wilbur was sitting on the floor beside it, the only light in the room coming from the candle on the dresser. He had been resting his head against the bed, and Dream had been lying down, until one of them said something (he couldn't remember which one of them had spoken up) and the other had turned and suddenly they had hugged, hands moving to hold up the other, not wanting to let go of the other. 

God, fuck, is this really when he needs to be thinking about this? When Dream’s nearly dead? When he watched him fight today, when he watched him sacrifice himself just so that everyone could live?

Fuck. 

**Author's Note:**

> anyways tumblr is @thedreamsteam but dont be scared i also make gifsets n shit fdjkg


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